


The Spyglass Tavern

by snufflyphoenix



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Disabled Character, Canon Queer Character, Family, Friendship/Love, Missing Scene, Multi, Old Friends, Post-Betrayal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-09-20 12:32:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17022684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snufflyphoenix/pseuds/snufflyphoenix
Summary: It's been two years since the stand-off on Skull Island. Long John Silver and Madi have retired to open an inn in Bristol, the ghosts of Nassau gone but not forgotten, when a familiar face turns up on their doorstep.





	1. The Old Sea-dogs

**Author's Note:**

> This idea started as a one-shot and has since grown legs and a mind of its own. Many many thanks to Nemo for editing this.

The wind whistles through the eaves and the candles flicker. It’s late November and it’s been black as pitch since 4pm, the frost that barely thawed this morning already setting in again around the window-panes. The Bristol streets are unusually quiet. The promise of snow had sent the last few patrons of the Spyglass Tavern home long ago and its proprietors were close to turning in for the night.

The bell above the door rings and Long John Silver looks up from his ledger to glance towards the other room, cursing himself for having not locked the door yet. 

“We’re closed!” he calls. 

The footsteps continue, accompanied by murmuring. 

He gathers his crutch and pulls himself up, huffing as he heads for the bar. 

“I understand that literacy is not something everyone is possessed with but we’re quite clearly closed,” he frowns at the figures illuminated by the fire. 

“I was told we could expect a warm welcome at the Spyglass.” Familiar eyes meet his and he stops in his tracks. 

John stares as the wry half-smile he knows so well emerges from behind the hood, dumbstruck.

“Or was I misinformed?” Captain James Flint raises an eyebrow, sharing a glance with his companion before looking back to him.

He doesn't speak, unable to comprehend. He just stares, forcing himself to shut his mouth so as to seem less gormless than he feels. His leg moves almost without him realising and he wraps an arm around James’ neck, holding him close to him as his breath gets unsteady. He feels him hesitate before returning the embrace, exhaling slowly. 

Time stands still for a moment as they clutch each other. 

John had truly believed that he would never see Flint again. For a long time he had convinced himself he hadn’t wanted to see Flint again. Flint and his damned gold had almost cost him everything, the war had almost cost him everything and he had clung like a drowning man to the chance Madi had given him to make things right. 

The years had been kinder to them than he had expected. Neither of them had adjusted well to England's climate but their business was healthy and they had begun to rebuild together. With Flint in Savannah, he had thought there was a minimal chance his past would catch up with him. Changing his name again had occurred to him but so far from Providence Island he felt a strange fondness for John Silver and kept it, a small memento of his short-lived career as a ship’s cook. 

Flint looks well. Remarkably well. He had let his hair grow again; the beard that had been the product of his mourning groomed. Many times Silver had wondered if he had done the right thing in exiling his captain, but looking at the man now, he was certain that he had. 

James’ companion removes his own hood, looking with a sort of fondness at the pair of them. “And to think you had me believing that I would have a hard time getting a word in edgeways.” 

John moves away, sniffing and roughly dragging a hand across his face. He wipes it on his jacket before offering it to the other man. “My apologies, I appear to have forgotten my manners. John Silver.” 

“Thomas Hamilton,” he shook his hand. “I wasn't aware manners were of importance amongst pirates.” 

John quirked his lip. “Perhaps not. However it is a tavern keeper's job to make his guests feel welcome. Especially when his guests include gentlemen.” 

“Now that's something I haven't heard in a while,” Thomas snorts. He looks around, gesturing to the table where James has made himself comfortable. “May I?” 

“Of course,” he nods as he crosses to the door and locks it. “I take it you're not venturing out again this evening?” 

“Not if it can be avoided,” James says, his eyes never leaving John. “Providing we're not intruding.” 

Footsteps on the stairs draw John from his thoughts and he looks up to see his wife.

“My husband said we are closed, please-- oh.” Madi stops in her tracks, pausing at the foot of the stairs to take in the room and the two arrivals. Her eyes meet John's. “You did not tell me we were expecting visitors.” 

“I didn't know we were,” he replies weakly. 

 

James stands, his eyes warm. “Madi.”

“Captain Flint,” she says. She only pauses a moment before crossing the room to press his hands in hers. “I was told we had lost you to the pages of history books.”

“I found myself on Savannah.” He squeezes her hands and he looks to Thomas. “I had an appointment to keep, it would seem. May I introduce my partner, Thomas Hamilton” 

 

 

John remains standing after serving James and Thomas bowls of soup. It’s not hot, he apologises, but it won’t poison them. James chuckles and the sound is so alien coming from his mouth that John has to take a moment to recentre himself. It’s been years since he’d heard him laugh and that does not sit well. 

 

 

“You don’t want him here.” 

John doesn’t look up, focussing on undoing his prosthetic. “What makes you say that?” 

“I know my husband and I am not a fool.” Madi latches the door behind her and turns back to face him. 

“You are not but your husband is,” he mutters and he grunts as he pulls it away from his leg, propping it against the chest he is sat on. “A damn fool. What are they doing here?” 

“They wished to come home now that they are free.” She removes her boots and belt, beginning to wrap her hair. “You would do the same. You have done the same,” she adds after a moment’s pause.

“Bristol is not their home.” He sighs deeply and leans back against the footboard of the bed, closing his eyes as he stretches out his legs. “He’s come to haunt me, Madi, I can feel it.” 

She huffs a laugh and shakes her head, touching his shoulder briefly as she passes him on her way to the bed. “You were right, my husband is a fool - a paranoid old fool who is entirely too self centered.” 

“And my wife will have no one to say ‘I told you so’ when I end up with my head smashed in, in a shallow grave.” 

She doesn't respond, pulling the blankets up around her. 

“You don't believe me?”

“No, I don't,” she says wryly. “I believe him when he tells us he has come home. Is he not home here?” 

It's John's turn to go quiet as he joins her in bed, sighing deeply as she settles against him and he wraps an arm around her, his hand carefully cradling her slightly rounded belly. 

“He can be home here if you let him. Him and Thomas.”

“Mm.” 

“They could make their life over here.” 

“Mm.”

“And you love him still.”

His thumb that had been making small meandering strokes against her skin paused in its tracks. 

“There is no shame in that,” she tells him quietly, lacing their fingers together, “do not be afraid.”

 

 

“He doesn't want us here.” 

“You're fretting.” 

“I was wrong to suggest we come.”

“James--”

“Where else can we go, it's hardly as if we have an abundance of friends--” 

“ _James--_ ” 

“And did you see the look on his face throughout dinner? We must leave tomorrow morning. It'll complicate things, I know, but--”

“ _James!_ ” 

“What?” 

Thomas closes his book with eyebrows raised. “You're pacing in your underthings.”

James flushes, glancing down at himself before joining Thomas in bed. For a moment they're quiet, luxuriating in each other's company and a bed to share big enough for the both of them. Fingers card through thinning hair and gentle kisses are placed on weather-beaten brows, and James briefly forgets what he was stressing about. He sighs quietly, relaxing against Thomas’ chest. 

“I don't know what I expected.” 

“So you said,” Thomas murmurs, “but this is hardly a negative reaction to our arrival.”

James hummed. “You don't know him like I do.”

“True. However, I doubt a man who welcomes us in, makes us food, introduces me to his wife and then allows us to stay is imminently plotting your demise.”

“You've been away from London society for too long if you truly believe that,” he smiles faintly and Thomas chuckles.

“You may have a point.”

“I usually do.” 

“Mm,” he says thoughtfully. “... I can't say I miss it though.” 

“Then be wary of Silver. Everything is politics to him.” 

Thomas smiles fondly. “Sounds like someone else I know.” 

 

 

“You couldn't sleep either?” Madi looks up from her seat by the fire, smiling at James as he pads downstairs. 

“Something like that.” He returns the smile and pulls the blanket he has draped over his shoulders tighter around himself. He gestured to the chair across from her. “May I?”

She nods her assent, putting her book aside as she tucks her feet up underneath her. “The wind is so violent I fear it may take the roof with it one of these days.” 

“Let's hope not.” He makes himself comfortable, resting his feet by the hearth. “But I’m sure your husband has something tucked away that can hire a few thatchers.” 

Madi sighs quietly. “If he did, we would not be leaving it in the state it's already in.”

“You're sure about that?” he asks, meeting her eyes as she looks at him quizzically. “Thomas and I can help fix it should that happen however.”

“That's kind of you,” she says. “John is in no position to climb a ladder and he has an aneurysm whenever I do anything more strenuous than climbing the stairs.” 

James laughs quietly. “I can imagine,” he pauses, “he's going to be a good father.” 

“He doesn't think so but he will,” she agrees, her voice fond. “I would say that he thinks too much but I won't cast stones in glass houses.” 

“No, I suppose neither of us can speak to that.” He settles back against the chair, watching the fire smoulder away. “...he's not happy I'm here.”

“He’ll be happy when he's slept on it,” Madi reassures him. 

“You sound so sure.”

“He's paranoid, more so now than he ever was.” She leans forward to stoke the fire, pulling her shawl closer around herself. “I had thought the further he was from everything, the more he would relax but it seems to have had the opposite effect. But he is always better after he's switched off for a while.

“And he has thought of you often in your absence.”

“Has he.” 

“You haven't met the parrot yet.”

James blinks. “The parrot?” 

She laughs at his bemused expression, closing her eyes as she leans back in the chair. 

“Still. Even if he were not eager to see you, I am certainly glad of your return.” 

It's James's turn to smile. “I can take solace in that, at least.”


	2. Day Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day together. John is struggling to adjust, Madi and Thomas get some time to bond and old partners come head to head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies this took a little longer to upload than I meant it to!

John wakes with the sun, looking blearily to the window where icicles have formed inside the panes and he sighs heavily. 

Madi hums contentedly as he drops a kiss on her brow, wrapping his now discarded blankets around her before reaching for his coat and crutch. 

Fumbling his way downstairs, he sets to work; opening the shutters, lighting the fires, unlocking the door. He doubts anyone will wander in until at least midday but he isn’t about to risk losing business for complacency. A rattle and a whistle from the corner catch his attention and he removes the cover from the noisy cage. 

“Good morning, Captain,” he smiles fondly at the parrot as he unlatches the door. She whistles again and hops out and up his arm to her perch on his shoulder. “Sleep well?” 

“Pieces of eight!” She squawks as he scratches the top of her head with his free hand. 

“Mm, me either.” He pulls a sack of potatoes over to his chair and begins to peel them with a knife from his coat pocket. “I barely slept a wink. I can't tell if it's the cold or him.” 

She whistles, settling herself against his hair.

He sighs. “I'm not mad, am I? I'm right to be concerned?”

She clicks and tilts her head back and forth. “Pieces of eight, pieces of eight.” 

He rolls his eyes, wiping his blade against his trouser leg. “You're no help. You know, just because you share the same name doesn't mean you have to take the same side-- ow!” He reprimands her as she nips at his ear, glaring at the bird the best he can as she hops up on top of his head. 

“Great, well, thank you. I'm certainly awake now.” 

“Who on earth are you talking to?” 

John looks up, meeting the baffled gaze of his guest. He gestures to the bird atop his head. “Captain Flint. James McGraw, meet Captain Flint.” 

James can only stare at the bright green bird that puffs up it's chest and flaps at him. “... this is an oddly introspective moment.” 

He snorts, continuing to peel the potatoes as James collects the kettle and sets it on the range. “Be my guest,” he mutters as the older man gathers a mug and the box of tea from the cupboard. 

James pauses, his brow somewhat furrowed. “I’m sorry?” 

“Hm? Oh, nothing.” John says dismissively, smiling blandly at him. “I trust you slept well?”

“Better than I have done in some time.” 

“After weeks on a ship, most nights on solid ground are preferable. Even with frostbite keeping us on our toes.” 

They share a quiet laugh as they lull into silence, the only sound the rasping scrape of blade and the slow trickle of water into mug. 

“You bought a tavern.”

“I lease a tavern.”

“Oh?” 

“Oh?” John repeats. 

“Is property so much these days?” 

“Well, I had hoped to buy,” he pauses a stroke of the knife, “but I suppose that dream is buried somewhere on Skeleton Island.” 

James nods slowly. “...of course. Still had enough to convince someone to hand over the keys?”

“Something like that. Silver tongued or whatever it is they say.” John smiles faintly. “Used to say.” 

James snorts into his mug. “Please. You speak as if you haven’t made it abundantly clear to anyone who crosses the threshold that you once sailed the West Indies and made a name for yourself.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” 

Flint squawks as if to reinforce James’ point, flapping and screeching loudly as John leans to drag another sack towards him. “Oh, fuck off,” he mutters as he swats at her, missing the amused smile on James’ face. 

“Madi implied that the bird and I sharing a name might be an at least vaguely fond homage. Now I’m not so sure.” 

“What makes you think there’s no fondness here? I’m fondly telling her to fuck off,” he replies blithely, sighing as ceiling dust falls with a banging from upstairs. He raises his stick and bangs back, yelling upwards. “If I could shut her up, I would, darling.” 

He laughs quietly at the responding thumps before catching James’ eye, his expression becoming guarded at the strange softness on his face. 

“You really have it all now, don’t you.” 

John’s expression doesn’t change as Flint leaves his head to perch above the range. “That sounds an awful lot like you wish I didn’t.” 

“You’re paranoid.”

“And you’re the second person in 24 hours to tell me that.”

“Perhaps you ought to listen.” 

“Perhaps.” 

“I’m going to lock that parrot outside one of these days, John Silver.” 

John stands up to give Madi his chair, reaching for the kettle to pour her a mug but is beaten to it. Madi accepts the cup from James gratefully and sits, ignoring the look her husband gives him. 

“You’re kidding yourself if you think that being outside would somehow lessen her racket,” he tells her, leaning against the wall as he continues to work. 

“I doubt she’d last too long out there,” James comments as he takes a sip. “Some farmhands by the docks were talking about bringing the cattle inside; if the cows won’t last, I somehow doubt she will.”

“I did miss you,” Madi tells James warmly. 

“You would tell me it was too quiet without her.” John ignores the both of them, shifting his weight briefly.

“With you around? Unlikely.”

“You don’t live here. I didn’t ask you.” 

“About that,” James looks to Madi, “Thomas and myself would be interested in the room for the time being if you’d be willing to have us?”

“Two and six will cover room and dinner, due on Thursday.” 

“And I wasn’t talking to you.” 

“We don’t have ‘family and friends’ rates.” John hefts the bucket of potatoes onto the counter. 

“But we do need help around here.” Madi shoots a look at John before looking back to James. “If you haven’t work here yet, we could offer room and board in exchange for some assistance. If that’s agreeable…?” 

“Madi, we don’t need--” John sighs, standing up straight. “Can we discuss this privately?” 

James frowns slightly. “We can work. We have plenty of experience, Silver can attest to that, and if you can provide board in return then that seems satisfactory.” 

Madi quirks an eyebrow at John who briefly clenches his jaw before putting his knife back in his belt. She smiles at James. “Welcome aboard.” 

James laughs. “Thank you. What can I--” 

John pushes a bag towards him, interrupting him. “Get the carrots prepped. When Thomas is up he can go to the butcher. I’m going to speak to Mrs Boswell about woolens. Captain!”

“What?” James blinks at him, barely ducking in time as Flint swoops across the room to perch on John’s shoulder. 

He gestures. “The bird.” He leans down to kiss Madi briefly, touching her hand as she raises it to rest on his arm. “Back soon.”

She nods, her brow slightly furrowed. “You’re alright?” 

He smiles a little, and it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Perfect. Don’t let him ruin us while I’m gone.”

“John.” Her frown deepens as he leaves, wincing slightly hearing him shove at the frosted hinges to open the door. 

She sighs, leaning back in her chair. She looks over at James and he pretends for a moment not to feel her gaze, looking steadfastly at the carrots he peels. 

“You said he’d be better after he slept.” 

“To be fair to him, I don’t believe he slept,” she drinks deeply before setting her mug at the table. 

James huffs a quiet laugh, continuing to work quietly. “The crew used to think he never slept. He always seemed to be around - it wasn’t until a few months after he joined that I realised he had just learnt to sleep with his eyes open.” 

Madi smiles faintly, wrapping both hands around her mug. “That sounds like him. … he will relax one day, I’m sure. By that point we’ll all be long gone but for what it’s worth I’m sure it will happen.”

“I’m sure that’s deeply comforting for him,” he says wryly. “Less so for the rest of us.” 

 

 

The bloody snow, John grumbles to himself, regretting not putting on his other boot before leaving the inn. He shoves some out the way with his stick as he trudges back, making slow progress down the path. Of all the things he had thought he would miss since the loss of his leg, he had not thought that being able to navigate snow would be one of them. 

 

Flint nestles up to his neck, hiding in his hair from the chill. John reaches up to scritch under her beak, pulling his scarf up over his nose. There was a reason the British went to the West Indies, he thought bitterly, and it started and finished with the promise of sunshine and a temperature above fifteen degrees. He’d take above five at this point. 

Two more bloody mouths to feed too, in addition to the miserly weather. They would have managed without help; they can’t manage without the income. Ten shillings for a pound of beef was bleeding him dry and yet the last time he’d attempted to go a week without serving meat there’d been such outrage he’d sworn to himself that that wouldn’t happen again. He and Madi had been up all night clearing the mess in silence; she had accused him of running his mouth to customers, he had refused to admit she might be right. That had lasted until sunrise when he’d apologised, promising he’d do better. It was a common cycle: he would promise to do better, she would pretend she believed him.

He hated disappointing her. 

He has the feeling that with his old captain around once more that that was going to become a more frequent occurrence, with his own failings thrown into sharp relief next to him and Lord Thomas Hamilton. He had never thought that nobility would lodge at his inn, and even if he had he suspects he wouldn't have imagined it like this; his ex-captain and his noble lover staying under his roof after running away from the prison he himself put the former in. Were he a religious man he might think that this was punishment for, well... a near endless list of crimes, he supposes, a cruel joke of some sort but he is not. 

He knows the universe does not play jokes and that they are all simply at the mercy of other men, and when the other men included James McGraw that one would be wise to sleep with one eye on the door. 

 

 

Madi looks up as the bell rings. She smiles to Thomas briefly as he enters with a parcel under his arm, stepping from behind the bar to greet him.

“Thank you. Did you have any problems?”

“None,” he smiles as he brushes a bit of stray snow from his hair. He gestures towards the kitchen. “Should I…?” 

She nods. “Yes, put it on the side. John will deal with it when he gets back.” 

Thomas returns to the bar to find her ladling soup into a bowl. She sets it across the bar from her and nods to it. “For your troubles,” she tells him and he thanks her. 

“James spoke most highly of you,” he tells her as he sits, blowing briefly on his spoon.

She smiles slightly, collecting a broom from where it leans against the wall as she begins to sweep. “That is kind of him. You can clean the tankards when you've finished.”

He takes another hurried mouthful of soup as he nods. “Of course. He is hardly one for flattery however so you can imagine my intrepidation when he suggested we come here.” 

“Oh?” She quirks an eyebrow at him. 

He swallows, smiling warmly. “He said that to have earned your respect was a mark of significant character. I thought he was just holding a high opinion of himself but I was certainly mistaken.”

She laughs. “Surely both could be true.”

“The stories he told of a pirate king and a princess; rather romantic, is it not? The sort of thing written to conjure up the imagination of the wives of Tory and Whig alike.” He grins easily.

She pauses in her work. “They do not write stories of people like us.” 

“Perhaps they should.” He scrapes the bottom of his bowl before moving to wash it. “I'm sure it would be well received.”

Madi's face is momentarily impassive. “We are not a spectacle and our story is our own.” 

“Of course,” he says quickly. “My apologies, I don't mean to offend you. Either of you.”

“Of course not.” Her smile is small and tense. “But as you and he would not appreciate the salons of London gossiping about you, neither would I and John.” 

The door slams open and they both look up.

“Is Flint upstairs?” John shuts the door behind him, putting his package down on the table before sitting on a chair, banging his boot on the floor as he brushes his coat off. 

“She’s--” Madi gestures to his shoulder.

“The man, not the bird,” he says shortly as the bird in question detangles herself from his hair and makes a line for the heath to warm herself. 

 

Thomas frowns. “I believe so. Is there anything--” 

“No.” 

 

 

James hears John before he sees him. He marks his page at the familiar rhythmic thud of the man with one leg climbing the stairs and puts down his book, crossing the short distance to the door of his room. He pulls it open and is immediately pushed back inside, a single hand in his shirt holding him against the gables and the familiar furious eyes of John Silver look back at him. 

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“What the fuck am _I_ doing? What the fuck are _you_ doing?” John’s grip tightens and he shoves him again for good measure. 

James scowls, narrowly missing bashing his head on the sloping roof. “I was reading, what’s your problem?” 

“Why the fuck did you have to come here?” he demands, eyes searching his face for something; quite what James isn’t sure. “Why couldn’t you just stay put? I put you in a prison on a fucking island and you still just had to come back.”

“You did your best, I’m sure.” James snarls, “but since when did you ever do a job properly?”

“ _Fuck you_. Why the fuck are you here?” 

“Where’s the gold?” 

John seems to flag briefly, blinking at him. “Beg pardon?”

“You heard me.” James seizes the advantage and pushes John backwards, taking his turn to grab his shirt before he loses his balance. He watches John struggle, his crutch falling to the ground. “Where’s the gold?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” John grapples at the air beneath him, trying to find something, anything to keep him from being reliant on James to keep him upright. “It’s on the island!”

“You honestly expect me to believe that?” James snorts derisively, pulling him back up but not getting his crutch for him. “You took everything from me and you actually think I’ll buy that you left it there.”

“I never saw where you buried it - do you think I’d be running an inn that’s falling down around me if I had the Urca gold?!” John curses as he loses his balance, ignoring his bright red face as he pulls himself up off the floor with his crutch. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re a fucking liar. I thought we could do this civilly.” 

John laughs humorlessly. “You trick my pregnant wife into thinking you want to catch up ‘for old times sake’ and that you ‘need a roof with nowhere else to go’ and I’m the uncivil liar? Please.” 

“I will have that gold.” James scowls, an edge of certainty in his voice that he can’t trace the origin of. 

“Let me know when you do.”

He straightens his shirt, setting his jaw. “You’ll be the last person I tell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go. The plot is emerging, relationships are forming slash reforming slash falling apart and Captain Flint the Bird is there to make my life even more complicated when writing this. Hope you enjoyed, feel free to follow me on my [tumblr/a> for more Black Sails content and I'll have another update for you guys soon.](https://justtheshipscook.tumblr.com/)


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